A Poor, Mad Girl Back Home
by Niamh98
Summary: Annie Cresta is known all across Panem as the poor insane girl from District 4. But she wasn't always like that, she used to be happy. But the things that she saw, the things that she did... they changed her. A story about what happened in Annie's games and the start of her and Finnick's relationship. Odesta!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! So I've been wanting to write this story for a while because I've always wandered about Annie's story and what happened really happened to her in the games. So yeah, I hope you like it, here goes!**

**Disclaimer: Definitely not Suzanne Collins!**

Chapter 1

I smile as I pick up a large white shell and run my thumb along all the ridges and crevices. I have been scanning the shoreline for shells all morning but this one is my favourite so far. Usually I would have been selling the fish down at my fathers little tackle stall in district four's market but as it was the day of the reaping the whole district was excused from work. Most took the opportunity to get some sleep as it didn't begin until the afternoon but I couldn't sleep, not today. Besides I love it out here by the sea; the fresh air and salt smell help clear my head and keep my mind off of things. Further out I can see my older brother, Nicholas and my father sitting on the pier fishing for our supper. We were supposed to have a celebration after each reaping, a special meal; to be thankful that it wasn't your children going off to die in the games. I absently sift the fine sand through my fingers and despite myself I let my thoughts wander to the reaping, which is less than two hours away now. I think about my name in the reaping bowl; four times it's in there now, thankfully I have never had to sign for tesserae. It's extremely unlikely I will get picked and I know that I will be ok, of course I will. I tell myself that over and over, but I'm having a little trouble believing it. Every year I am nervous, but this year it feels different. I have a bad feeling, like dread spreading through my body, making my limbs heavy as though they are made of lead. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it I can't. This year I am scared.

My thoughts are interrupted by light footsteps behind me; I turn and see our districts male victor, my brother's best friend, Finnick Odair. I had forgotten that he was back in town for the games; he's one of our districts mentors. He is as heart wrenchingly gorgeous as ever with his flawless golden skin and perfect bronze hair... and those eyes; a piercing sea green that never fails to make me feel a little dizzy. Of course I shouldn't be thinking like that, not only is he way out of my league, but he's as good as family. He smiles his heart-stopping smile, the one that makes all the ladies in the Capitol melt, "hey Anchor, miss me?" he asks with a wink, sitting down beside me. 'Anchor' was the nickname he had given me when we were kids, I had always hated it, but it has grown on me over the years.

"Well I certainly didn't miss your ego," I tease, with a laugh.

Finnick chuckles and I feel the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile; he always manages to cheer me up.

I stare out into the ocean, mesmerized by the soothing churning of the waves. "Nick's out at the pier," I tell him.

Finnick nods, "I know, I spoke to him earlier. Actually, I wanted to talk to you," he says quietly, I can't help but be surprised how serious he is, usually he's always joking around but I guess even Finnick Odair can't make light of the reaping.

I arch an eyebrow, "yeah?"

He's quiet for a long moment and then he turns to me with those breathtaking green eyes and it takes all of my will power to keep my focus, "are you nervous?" he asks me at last.

"No," I lie.

"You always were a terrible liar," He says, with a rueful smile.

I sigh, "what do you want me to say Finn? Of course I'm nervous, everyone is, but the odds really are in my favour this time. My name is only in there four times, it could be a lot worse," as I say this, I can't help but wonder which one of us I'm trying to convince.

"You're right," he agrees. "It won't be you."

I give him a brave smile, "good. Now stop fussing, honestly Finnick you're like an old woman!"

Finnick laughs, "Just looking out for you Anchor." I suppress a sigh; don't get me wrong, I like that he wants to look out for me, that he cares about me. But he see's me as the little sister he needs to protect. I don't want him to see me as his sister.

"Well from what I hear about your _adventures_ in the Capitol, I think perhaps you're the one who needs looking out for," I say wryly. Finnick Odair is, understandably, a heartthrob in Panem and we all know about his string of fancy ladies in the Capitol.

He frowns, "I think you might be right about that Anchor." _What's that suppose to mean?_ I look at him, waiting for an explanation but it doesn't come. After a long moment, he looks at his watch and mutters something that, even the fishwives down at the market would have been shocked to hear. "I've got to get to the town hall!" He says jumping to his feet and heading up the beach back into town. He turns a few feet away from me and yells, "I'll see you soon Anchor! Oh and Annie, wear something pretty." He adds with a grin.

I walk towards the town square and slip into the sixteen year old girls section, squeezing in beside my friend Callie. She smiles at me reassuringly and I manage a weak smile back. I had taken Finnick's advice and put on my best dress, it had been my mothers once and she had given it to me before she died, it is simple and light blue and comes just above my knees, I made an effort and even bothered to rag a comb through my tangled brown hair. I wait fidgeting nervously with the buttons on my dress as the escort reads out the history of Panem, with every word my panic seemed to rise until finally, "ladies first!," the escort crosses to the first bowl and dips in his hand, then he walks back to the podium and smoothes out the slip of paper, he looks out into the crowd, "Annie Cresta!"

I don't know exactly what happened in the next few moments. I just stand there frozen. I vaguely remember Callie giving me a hard shove in the back and then I'm walking up to the stage, forcing one foot in front of the other. The town square is completely silent; every step I take echoes across the pavilion like a thunder clap. I climb the steps and then I'm on the stage next to the escort looking out over my district, the familiar faces look back at me with pity, this is the place I grew up, my home and I know I'm never going to see it again. The victors sit in chairs to my left, old Mags in one and Finnick in the other. Finnick looks pale, probably worried about telling his best friend that his sister isn't coming home. Timothy asks if there are any volunteers and the town square is so silent, that I could have heard a pin drop. Of course no one volunteers for me and I don't expect them to, don't get me wrong I'm well liked here, but no body cares that much.

"Now district 4, I think perhaps we have a victor here!" The escort says half-heartedly, I am small and untrained. I'm weak and we all know I'm no victor. "Come on now, a round of applause for Miss Cresta!" There's an uncomfortable silence followed by a few weak claps.

I barely even notice when the escort calls out the name of the male tribute, "Bran Ashley!" He is a strong eighteen year old, a vaguely remember seeing him around school; he has a better shot than I ever do. The next thing I know I am being ushered off the stage and shoved into a plush visiting room. And only when I am finally alone do I allow myself to break down, sink to the ground and cry. I am as good as dead.

**A/N: So here's the first chapter, I'd love to know what you guys are thinking so please review, it means a lot! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guysss! So, I've been good and updated, wooo! Anyway, here's the next chapter. So I hope you like it, leave a review if you have time:)**

**Chapter Two**

I sit on the ground in the visiting room and take a deep shaky breath. _In and out._ I ball my hands into fists, my finger nails biting into the skin of my palms. I can feel my tears, hot on my face. _Stop it! You're being pathetic_, I tell myself forcefully_._ I can't afford weakness, not now. I wipe my face roughly with the back of my hands and shakily push myself to my feet. I hold my hands out in front of me, palms up and stare at them. I will have to kill people. Even if, by some miracle I survive this, there will be blood on my hands forever. I don't feel like crying anymore. The door swings open and my father and Nicholas walk in. My father is without a doubt the kindest person I have ever met; he doesn't have a bad bone in his body. His cheeks are red and his face is weather beaten, his brown hair is sparse and he has lines around his eyes from smiling, but he doesn't smile so much anymore, not since my mother died. He folds me into his arms and I bury my face into his shoulder trying to memorize every little detail; the salt smell on his clothes; the roughness of his skin; the warmth of his body. I can feel him sobbing into my hair, "Oh my dear Annie, my beautiful little girl, I can't lose you too…" he repeats over and over. I throw Nick a desperate look, I promised myself I was done crying, but I don't think I can take much more of this. Nick gently pulls my father away and he releases me stepping back, his eyes red and puffy as he blows his nose into a hanky.

I look at my brother, he is not crying. His mouth is set into a tight line and his jaw is clenched, he looks determined. He pulls me into his strong arms for a long moment and then releases me. He looks me in the eye and grips my hand, "Annie, listen to me," he says urgently, "I talked to Finnick and he is going to bring you back, ok?" I find his belief in me just as painful as my father's grief. But I want him to have hope, so I nod a slightly, not trusting myself to speak. He squeezes my fingers, "do you have your token?" He asks.

I blink, I hadn't even thought about it. My fingers fumble in my pocket and I fish out the shell I found this morning and hold it out to him, "yes."

The guard steps into the room and clears his throat loudly, "times up, you have to leave," he announces. I want to scream and launch myself at him; I want to hurt him for ruining my last moments with my family. No, I want to kill him. Maybe I won't have to work hard to find that killer instinct, maybe it will be easy; maybe it's already inside me. The guard grabs my fathers arm and starts to drag him from the room.

Nick throws me a desperate look as he's pulled away from me, "promise me you'll try!" he screams, "promise-" the door slams shut and cuts him off.

They pull me through the city in a daze. There's a guard on either side of me, they grab my arms and half drag, half carry me to the train station. I'm swarmed by reporters but I barely even notice them, I am too numb to care. The guards shove me onto the train and I stumble over the threshold. I would've fallen flat on my face but thankfully, Finnick is there and he grabs my elbows to steady me. The train jerks forward and the unbelievable speed shocks me so much that for a blissful second I forget why I'm even here. Finnick keeps one hand firmly holding my elbow as he steers me down a long corridor. We pass by a large glass window and I catch sight of our district passing by in a dizzying blur, that is almost enough to set me off again; just the thought of leaving my home for the first and last time. But I remind myself just in time, that weakness is a luxury I can no longer afford. Finnick pulls me towards a door at the end of the corridor, which I assume is my bedroom. He leans in the doorway and looks at me, "You have an hour to rest up before supper," he says. I nod stiffly and reach out my hand to open the door, but Finnick grabs my wrist and turns me around so I have to look at him. "Annie," he says softly. "I know that you're scared, but I made a promise to your brother and I'm going to make the same promise to you, I am going to bring you back here if it kills me," he says, his voice filled with quiet determination. I would tell him that he shouldn't bother, that I don't stand a chance anyway and he should focus his efforts on someone with an a actual shot, like Bran, but I'm too exhausted to argue with him so I just nod. He brushes a lock of hair back from my face, and even in my dazed state my whole body tightens. He smiles sadly, "get some sleep Anchor."

I don't take Finnick's advice. There are too many thoughts whirring around my head to sleep and anyway, I have a bad feeling that if I do the nightmares will return worse than ever. I stand in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water slowly revive me. I pull some clothes out of the wardrobe and put on the first things my fingers touch, not paying much attention to what they are. I take the shell from my pocket and stare at it for a second; it wasn't even three hours ago that I found it, washed up with the tide, but it seems like another lifetime. I gently hold the shell to my ear and I can hear the sea, I feel a pang in my chest; I miss district 4 already. I thread the shell onto a piece of string and tie it around my neck. My thoughts grow darker and darker until I can't stand anymore of my own company, desperate for a distraction I walk down the long hall and see if supper is ready yet. I pass the window again and see more buildings flying by; I wonder which district that is.

I can hear voices coming from a door to my left; I quietly push it open and step inside. I gasp; the room is larger and fancier than anything I have ever seen in my entire life, it's beautiful. There is a table in the centre of the cabin and on top of it is a mountain of food that could have fed our whole district for a year. Bran's expression mirrors my own awe; he sits in a plush chair looking around the room with his mouth open, his eyes constantly drifting back to the food. I don't blame him, I hadn't realised how hungry I was either. Finnick is stretched out lazily on a velvet couch, popping sugar cubes into his mouth and Mags is sitting in a rocking chair, she spots me hovering by the door and gives me a toothless grin. Our escort, Timothy Payne a small and cruel little man, is eyeing Bran with undisguised disgust. Finnick turns and winks at me, "well now that sleeping beauty is up, I guess we should watch the other reapings," he says, without much enthusiasm. Finnick points the remote at the large plasma screen and then glances at the food, "help yourself Anchor, you could do with putting on a few pounds on before the games." My face warms, like a need to be reminded of how small I am, but grudgingly I pile some food onto a plate. I try hard not to stare at the two avoxes that our serving us, but I can't quite manage it, the thought of them having their tongues cut out by the same people who are sending me to die makes my blood run cold. The first avox, a girl, meets my eyes and I quickly look away, forcing my eyes back to the television. The screen flickers to life and we watch the reapings; from the huge careers of district one through to the poor helpless kids of district 12. After a while all the faces seem to blend into one and all I can seem to think for each one is _'maybe I'll have to kill you'_ or '_maybe you'll be the one who kills me.'_ In the end only a few faces stick in my memory: A giant lumbering boy from district 2, who could easily be mistaken for a bear; a tall, skinny thirteen year old boy from district 5; a curvy, blonde girl from district 8, who both Finnick and Bran sit there gaping at and I immediately dislike and finally, a painfully thin, mal- nourished girl from district 12. I try not to watch the reaping from our district, not wanting to see how weak and pathetic I must have looked to the other tributes as well as potential sponsors, but I am shocked to see that although I was in turmoil inside, I actually appear almost calm, controlled. Bran, on the other hand looks like a child on the verge of tears and as he watches himself walk to the stage he flushes with shame and I feel for him. Finnick looks us both up and down, his expression clinical, like he is inspecting the quality of his stock, his green eyes meet mine and he gives me a grim smile, "let's talk tactics."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review, I'd love to know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi guysss! So new chapter, everyone excited, yeah? Anyway, I decided that the story is going to switch from Finnick to Annie POV, just to keep things interesting. So, hope you like it!**

**Chapter 3**

I poke at my food with my fork. Living in District 4 my whole life I have never eaten anything but seafood, this stuff is strange and exotic and I'm afraid of what it might be like. I glance across the table and I can see Bran stuffing food into his mouth, eating so fast he's barely chewing. Our escort Timothy wrinkles his nose and looks at Bran like he just grew another head. I look back at the food and my stomach groans, I scrutinise the plate and prod at the most innocent looking thing I can find. I'm still glaring at the food when Finnick, who sits beside me, gently nudges me with his elbow, "it's called a hamburger," he says quietly, "here put this on it," he hands me a strange red sauce. I'm still fascinated with this when Finnick clears his throat, "so now that we've watched the other reapings you can see for yourself that the other tributes, particularly the careers are pretty, um... _big_ this year." I shudder, that's an understatement. "But size isn't everything," he continues, "and I believe that with the right training and the right marketing, you could both stand a chance." I think about that for a second, he's right of course, size isn't everything, but it is a hell of a lot; some of the careers look as though they could snap me in half like a toothpick. I push that thought from my mind and try to focus on Finnick; he's standing now, leaning on the table, he looks strong, powerful. I understand how he won the games when he was just fourteen, even then he was tall and strong, not to mention deadly smart and armed with his trident he was unstoppable. I look over at Mags, I don't remember her games, it was long before I was born, but I find it hard to imagine her being a killer, she just looks like a harmless old lady, but she must have killed to win the games. I make a mental note to ask her about it one day. If I live long enough that is. Finnick pops another sugar cube into his mouth. "We'll worry about training later," he says. Yes I will. "But first you need to meet with your stylists. The opening ceremony is tomorrow and you need to be made 'appealing' to the Capitol audience. This is your biggest opportunity to get sponsors and you can never ever underestimate the importance of sponsors, they could be the difference between life and death." Bran and I don't argue with this, of course we don't want to be made to look like these people, they're terrifying, but it's not a big sacrifice to make in the circumstances. I look at Finnick, he understands the importance of sponsors more than most; he had them all falling at his feet, with his heart-breaking good looks.

Timothy sneers at us, "I must say I think it will take a lot to make these two attractive to the people of the Capitol." He says sourly. He was the escort to the tributes from district 2 before, but when he didn't bring them back a victor, they moved him down to us and well, let's just say he's a little bitter about that.

Finnick smiles, his expression contrasting with the frosty look in his eyes. "Well Timmy, it is your job to charm the Capitol, I hope you are up to it." He says, his voice scathing, "and who knows, maybe you'll bring back a victor for once." Mags cackles and Bran and I exchange a nervous glance. Timothy flushes and I try not to smile. That shut him up.

Suddenly Mags gets to her feet and points a bony finger at the window, "Capitol," she grunts. Bran and I are both at the window in a second. Unable to resist the urge to see this place, that we have heard about so many times, that we have caught glimpses of on the television. The Capitol. The cameras have not done it justice, that's for sure. The city is crowded with buildings so tall that they seem to reach up and vanish into the clouds. The flawless roads and pavements are bustling with people whose appearances are so mad, they are almost laughable. I can see colours that I never even knew existed; it is such a far cry from District 4 it seems almost surreal. Like I have stepped into another universe. Then I remember why we're here and my stomach drops. I can see a crowd of capitol people surrounding the train, screaming and waving. Bran grins and blows kisses into the crowd, which makes a few girls look like they're about to faint, he glances sideways at me and whispers, "What's wrong with their faces?" I snort, they really do look bizarre. I look back at Finnick, who is looking at me expectantly; he gives a small nod towards the window. I turn back to the crowd and wave, smiling sheepishly.

Finnick smirks, "alright come on, time to make you _beautiful,_" he says, the word drips with sarcasm. I take a deep breath and we both head for the door. On the way out Finnick catches my arm, "Don't let them change you too much Anchor," he murmurs, his mouth against my ear. "I like you just the way you are." I feel myself blush and I hate myself for it, because I know that it's just Finnick being Finnick; he doesn't mean anything he says. Why would he ever like me? He's the most handsome man in Panem for God sake. I shake my head, here I am days away from almost certain death and I'm worried about a boy, it's so ridiculous I almost laugh.

We get off the train and walk into a huge, electric blue building, where Finnick and Mags leave us to our stylists. Bran and I walk down a long corridor, until we reach the end where there are two doors, one on the right and one on the left. Bran rests his hand on the handle of the door to the right and I turn to the other one. "Annie," Bran says. I look back at him. "Good luck."

**Finnick POV**

I sit across the table from Mags. We have a couple of hours before the stylists are done with Annie and Bran and I sent Timothy off to get us some coffee, not that I enjoy making that stuck up idiot run errands for me or anything. Anyway I need to talk to Mags alone, I need a favour actually. See I have a bit of a problem, I'm going to bring Annie home, there is no doubt about that in my mind, but I can't leave Bran without any help, he's a nice guy and it's not fair for me to focus all my efforts on Annie, he deserves a chance to live too. I try to tell myself that I'm not bias but, deep down I know that if it came down to it, I would choose Annie every time. I promised Nicky that I would bring her home, but it's not just that; she's Anchor, I watched her grow up, I taught her to swim; she needs to make it home. I look at Mags, "I need you to look out for Bran," I say bluntly. Mags might seem like a harmless old lady, but don't let that fool you, she was my mentor five years ago, and she's the best there is... well after me of course.

"Why?" she asks, I learnt quickly that Mags doesn't like to use too many syllables.

"Because, I need to focus on Annie and we can't just leave the kid with no help." I tell her, neglecting to mention that I need to focus on Annie because I care about her more than I've ever cared about anyone or anything in my pathetic excuse of a life.

"Why?" She repeats.

"Because she's like my little sister and I need to bring her home," it's not a complete lie, but I've never really thought of Annie like a sister, my feelings for her are sort of confusing, but it's not that.

Mags look at me for a long moment; her grey eyes are so wise that it makes her seem even older. "Please Mags, for me?" I give her my best puppy-dog look, even though my charm and tricks never work on her, it's worth a shot.

"OK, I'll watch the boy," she says.

"Thanks Mags, I owe you," I say gratefully.

She grabs my wrist as I get up to leave, her bony fingers wrapping around my muscular forearm. "Careful Finnick, it won't end well for either you," she croaks. I blink; in all the years I've known her I don't think I've ever heard her say a sentence that long. _And what the hell's that supposed to mean anyway?_ Nothing ever ends well for me. I won the games and now I'm the Capitols... _no I won't say it._ I don't even want to think about the way they use me now. Mags releases my wrist and goes back to staring absently out of the window. I walk out of the room, I can't think about any of that now, I just have to focus on Annie, on bringing Annie back. That's all that matters now.

**A/N: So, thanks for reading everyone! If you review, I'll give you some cake! You know you want some cake... just press that little review button there and it's yours! Ok, loveyouuuuu guys, peace.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello again! I updated, everybody proud of me?;) Sorry it wasn't faster but I've been reading the new Percy Jackson: Mark of Athena, it's amazing, seriously recommend it! Ok so, here's the new chapter, hope you like it. OH AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEAUTIFUL JOSH HUTCHERSON! **

**Disclaimer: All rights to Suzanne Collins!**

**Chapter 4**

_**Annie POV**_

I bite my tongue as a particularly thick hair is torn from my eyebrow. I was so worried about the pain I would have to endure in the arena that I never even considered the torture that I would be put through in the prep room. They've been at it for hours, waxing and plucking and scrubbing, by this point, I really have lost the will to live. Ok, maybe that was a poor choice of words.

The leader of my prep team, a woman named Narcissa, leans back to scrutinise her work. She claps her hands in delight, "Much better!" I manage a polite smile and try not to stare at her electric blue hair and luminous amber eyes. The people here seem like a different species. I imagine her walking through the market back home, with her ridiculous hair and her peculiar clothes and I stifle a laugh.

Althea, another member of the team walks over to us and gasps, clapping a hand over her heart, "_Oh my God,_ look at that tan!" She squeals, "That's the shade I'm getting, remember I was telling you?" I try hard not to cringe away from them, of course I'm tanned I've lived and worked on the beaches of District 4 my whole life, everyone who lives there is tanned, but the thought of getting it done artificially like that makes me uneasy.

Narcissa pouts, which looks a little strange considering her lips are dark green, "It's her eyelashes I want!" She complains, "The ones I buy aren't nearly as long." _Hold on, wait a minute._ You can _buy_ eyelashes here? I don't think I will ever understand these people.

"Hmmm... She is pretty," Althea agrees, "a little plain though." _Ouch,_ I think, _I am still here you know!_

Narcissa frowns and nods, "Yes, she'll never stand out next to that girl from District 8, she's too... young looking," she remarks absently.

"Hopefully Delphi will be able to help with that," Althea replies thoughtfully.

I clear my throat and they both jump like they have just remembered my existence. "Um, who's Delphi?" I ask.

"She's your stylist. She's the best in the business, you're lucky to have her," Narcissa says, her tone filled with admiration.

"Oh yes!" Althea jumps in, "She was meant to go to District one, but at the last minute she changed her mind and chose you instead!" She says, she talks so fast that, teamed with her stupid capitol accent, she's almost impossible to understand her. She checks over her shoulder and leans in close, "apparently it's because she had a thing with Finnick." She whispers gleefully. I grit my teeth and tell myself that that doesn't bother me. I already knew Finnick has lots of women in the Capitol and it's really none of my business, I have got to let go of this pathetic schoolgirl crush, he's my mentor. That's it.

"Of course that's just a rumour and we don't approve of gossip, _do we_ _Althea_?" Narcissa says pointedly, Althea shakes her head sheepishly.

Suddenly I hear them both gasp and fall silent, after hearing them chatter none stop for what feels like an eternity, this is such a shock that I turn around, wandering what all the fuss is about; the way they're reacting I half expect it to be President Snow. Turns out it's my stylist, who is equally terrifying. She is easily six feet tall, even without her dangerously high stilettos. Her long wavy hair is an unnaturally bright shade of red and the left half of her face is obscured with a tattoo that reaches from her hairline down to her jaw. She walks towards me, her heels clicking on the marble floor. I can see why Finnick would like her; she's everything I'm not. She turns to the prep team, her eyes are green and catlike, "I'll take it from here," she says. For a moment they just stand there dumbly, mouths agape, before they blink and scurry away. "You must be Annie," she says smoothly, shaking my hand. "My name is Delphi, I'm your stylist."

She leads me into another room; the walls are lined with shelves which are stacked with hundreds of multi-coloured jars filled with makeup, jewellery, glitter, hair accessories and some things that I don't even recognise. I remember when I was a kid and my Dad bought me a ribbon for my birthday, I hadn't stopped smiling for weeks, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever owned, my stomach twists and I push away the memory. The door clicks behind me and I drag my gaze away from the jars. Delphi turns to face me and stares for a long moment, her perfectly shaped eyebrows pulled together in concentration. I stand there awkwardly, twining my fingers together nervously as she scrutinises me. She nods, "yes," she murmurs. "That will work." She walks over to the enormous closet on the other side of the room and peers inside.

I hesitate, but before I can stop myself the question bursts form my lips, "So why did you choose District 4?" I ask casually.

Delphi shrugs, her back to me as she rummages through the closet, "I wanted a change of scene," she mutters, pulling out a piece of fabric.

I want to press her, ask her how she knows Finnick, if anything ever happened with him, but I can't. I need to keep her on side; the way she makes me look in the opening ceremony is important. Finnick's words echo in my mind: _sponsors could be the difference between life and death. _"Oh," is all I say.

I wipe my palms on my jeans. The tributes from District Four are almost always mermaids, witch means that I'll probably end up with only a couple of strategically placed shells to keep me from being completely naked. Great, more strangers get to see my body. Delphi turns around and gives me a wicked smile. I gulp. Yeah, I'm definitely going to be naked...

_**Finnick**_

I'm sitting with the other mentors back stage, watching the opening ceremony on the screens. A small part of my mind registers the movement of my fingers as I tie and untie the length of rope in my hands. The tributes from District one come out first and I try not to groan, it's almost like they got bigger on the journey here. I exchange a glance with Mags, who sits across from me, her expression is grim and I see my own anxiety mirrored in her lined face. I run my fingers through my hair in exasperation; with a little work, we should be able to get Bran in with the career pack, but Annie...

A fist smacks into my shoulder so hard that the impact reverberates through my collarbone. In a second I'm on my feet with Johanna's arm twisted behind her back and her face squashed against the wall. She laughs, her voice muffled against the plaster, "sup pretty boy?"

I release her and slump back down into my chair, refocusing my eyes on the screen; the chariot from District 3 is just pulling into the city circle. I feel Johanna plop down beside me. Sitting forward on the edge of my seat, I clench my fists, any minute now. The chariot rolls slowly through the crowd, who immediately scream hysterically, I hear myself gasp. Annie looks stunning. Her dress is a patchwork of different shades of blue, from sky blue to navy; a long train stretches out from the back and its cut short at the front showing off her legs. Her wavy dark hair is braided with shells. I see her green eyes widen at the crowds reaction as they hurl flowers onto the chariot. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back in my chair. I had been so terrified that they would dress her like they dressed me in my games; Annie shouldn't be exposed like that, not to these people. She is too innocent, too pure. I allow myself a satisfied smile; the sponsors were going to love them. Maybe I could keep my promise.

Johanna gives a low whistle, "he's cute," she remarks. I glance up, I had barely noticed Bran, I had been so absorbed by Annie. I feel a little guilty about that, but it's hard to notice anything except her. He's wearing a shirt that's the same as Annie dress, he's always been pretty good looking, but the capitol has made him perfect. He's laying the charm on thick, waving and blowing kisses, there are literally women throwing themselves at the chariot, he's good, I'll give him that. But there is a small resentful part of me that hates how close he's standing to Annie.

"He thinks he's cute," I mutter mutinously.

Johanna arches an eyebrow, "are you jealous Odair?" I scowl at her and she laughs, "don't worry Finn, you're still the prettiest little girl in Panem," she teases. I glare at her, but Johanna just sighs, "You're lucky, you've actually got something to work with, my tributes are useless," she complains, "just once I'd like to get a pair of fighters."

"You shouldn't talk about them like that," I say sadly, "you're their last chance."

"But come on Finn, look at your two!" she whines, "they're all the sponsors are talking about; he's strong, charming, you could get him in with the careers easy," I nod, that was always the plan with Bran. Johanna frowns, "as for her... well she has the whole 'innocent vulnerability' that the sponsors love so much," she says thoughtfully, "that won't be much good in the arena though, unless she does what I did and pretends to be so sweet and harmless that the others will leave her alone."

"I don't think she could flip a switch and turn into a cold-blooded killer like you did," I say wryly. I glance up at the screen, at Annie's dazed expression and sweet naive smile. Johanna's right she is too innocent for this. I clench my fists, I didn't thing it was possible for me to hate the Capitol any more, but I do, I hate them because even if she survives this she'll never be the same. "She doesn't have to pretend," I mutter bitterly.

**A/N: Thanks so much for taking the time to read, you're all amazing! Please remember to REVIEW, I'd love to know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I have two stories on the go and I've been neglecting this one a little (I know I'm terrible). But, better late than never right? So here's the new chapter, hope you like it!**

**Chapter Five**

The training centre is amazing, in a terrifying sort of way. We have a whole floor to ourselves, we each have a bedroom, mine is about twice the size of our entire house back in District Four, which is just a little seaside cabin. For the life of me I can't imagine why anyone would need this much space, I've always been thankful just to have a bed to sleep in and a small cupboard for my clothes, it's more than most people have. Despite all the cutting-edge technology and the impossibly soft bed and even the fantastic view, I find myself longing for my tiny shoebox bedroom, overlooking the ocean. I finger the shell on the cord around my neck and once again push those thoughts from my mind, getting homesick is the last thing I need right now. We spend most of our time discussing strategy in the huge living area, although I can't see what good it does, even tactical geniuses like Finnick and Mags or even Timothy, won't be able to think of a plan to bring me out of the arena alive. We go into the actual training rooms for the first time this afternoon and to say that I'm terrified would be an understatement. I try to pull myself together, but if I'm this scared now I don't even want to think about what I'll be like in the games. I've been catching glimpses of the other tributes, all muscular and intimidating and I just can't seem to bring myself to willingly walk into a room where they'll all be throwing spears and using knives because I know that once I do I'll be forced to reveal how painfully weak and untrained I am. I'll be easy prey.

Finnick's voice brings me back to reality. We're sitting around the large dining table in the living area, there is an, admittedly delicious looking, plate of food in front of me, but my stomach is already in knots that are too tight for even Finnick to undo and one look at the avoxes serving us and I lose my appetite completely. Mags looks pointedly at my untouched plate and back up at me, I know I have to put some weight on for the games and get stronger, so I grudgingly take a bite.

Finnick glances between Bran and I, "So Timmy, how's it going with the sponsors?"

Timothy, our escort, looks up and scowls at Finnick, "if you must involve me in your pitifully hopeless attempt to save these two, I would prefer that you refer to me as either Timothy or Sir, _boy_."

Finnick gives him a lazy smile, "of course, _Sir_ Timmy," Timothy turns an alarming purple colour and I hold my breath, half expecting a standoff, but Finnick continues calmly, "now, about those sponsors?"

"Well, I'm doing what I can to sell them to the Capitol and thankfully they aren't _that_ offensive to the eyes," he says scornfully.

"Gee, thanks," Bran mutters.

"It'll take a lot of work, but I should be able to get them some sponsors, I do love a challenge," he sneers.

"Good," Finnick says, "Now since we start training today Mags and I have discussed it and we have decided to train you two separately."

"Why?" I ask, my voice cutting through an octave in alarm, I don't want to be trained separately from Bran, he's my friend, I was hoping he could provide me with some moral support during the training and although it is probably unfair to expect this from someone who is destined to be my enemy, I was hoping he could help protect me from the other tributes. The thought of doing this alone, makes me want to turn and run all the way back to District 4.

Finnick seems to sense my distress because his sea green eyes harden and turn stormy like my not wanting to be separated form Bran bothers him for some reason, "Because you may have skills that you don't want to share with the other," he says shortly, "I'll be training you Annie and Mags will be training Bran. Besides, some one on one attention can't hurt." The way he says this makes me even more afraid, but for different reasons.

"I don't have any skills that I want to hide-"I object desperately, but the look Finnick gives me is enough to silence me. Hiding skills from each other is like accepting that we will eventually be trying to kill each other and I don't want to accept that, I don't want to have to kill Bran or more likely, I don't want Bran to have to kill me. He reminds me of my Dad, gentle and kind, I can't hurt him, even if I was able to.

We agree to meet back here at three so that Bran and I can go down to the training rooms together. Timothy leaves to go and try to make some deals with the potential sponsors and Mags takes Bran to another room to train, leaving me and Finnick alone. It's funny, a week ago if you had told me I could have some alone time with Finnick Odair I would have bitten your arm off, but now sitting here with him looking at me, it's everything I can do not to bolt for the door. You're being ridiculous, I tell myself, this is Finnick, he's Nick's best friend and you've known him since you were five years old. He's like family, you shouldn't feel so awkward around him, it's stupid.

He's staring at me from across the table, his brilliant green eyes focused so intently on my face that I feel heat start to creep into my cheeks. "So, what skills do you have Anchor?"

"Um, I can gut fish?" I venture hopelessly.

Finnick chuckles and I'm suddenly glad I'm sat down because it makes me feel a little dizzy. "Anything else, you know just in case the arena isn't full of dead fish?"

I scowl at him, "laugh all you want Odair you never know what they'll throw at you in the games."

Finnick sighs, "Come on Annie, I know you have _some_ skills," he insists.

I bury my face in my hands for a moment, "No, I have no useful skills whatsoever," I say, determinedly fighting back tears. "I'm no good with weapons, I'm not strong and I can't hunt. I'm useless."

Finnick gently pries my hands away from my face, but continues to hold them in his own and I can hear my heart thumping in my ears. "Don't be melodramatic Anchor," he tells me lightly, "You don't have to be some ripped career to survive in the games." _No but it sure helps,_ I think bitterly. He turns my hands over and absently traces his fingers along the creases in my palms, "You're fast, speed is always important and you can swim, most of the others can't" he says, but I'm still not convinced. "And you're smart, which is more than can be said for some of those Neanderthals."

I sigh, "But what if that's not enough, I don't even have a weapon Finn."

"You can tie a decent net and you're handy with fishhooks," he speculates, "we could probably train you up with a knife."

We're still holding hands and we're sat so close together now that our shoulders are touching, if someone came in and saw us this wouldn't look good. This, whatever it is, is inappropriate, he's my mentor and he's here to try and keep me alive, that's it, it doesn't matter that I've had a crush on him for years. I force myself to pull my hands back. I keep my gaze fixed down on the table, I know that he's trying to make me feel better, but he knows that it's hopeless just as much as I do.

"Annie?" Reluctantly, I raise my eyes and look at him. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that it's going to be ok because you know that's not true," he says quietly, "but if you want to stand any chance at all you have to stop underestimating yourself," he says, "you have to show those other tributes that you are strong, that you're not a pushover."

But that's just it, I'm not strong. I have never been strong, my brother Nick, he was always the strong one, when my mother died he got us through it, he dragged dad out of bed everyday, he worked to support us. God I wish he were here, he'd know what to do. Finnick looks so determined, that I want to say something hopeful and reassuring, honestly his easygoing smile has been the only thing keeping me sane the past few days, but I can't seem to find the right words. Thankfully, I don't have to because at that moment Mags and Bran come in. Crap that means that it's time to go to the training centre, my legs feel like jelly, I don't think I can do this. I glance back up at Finnick, he gives me a small nod and I see that familiar wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the message is clear_, 'remember what I told you.'_ God he really does believe in me, unfortunately that will just make it even harder when he has to watch me die. But I can't let him down, at least not yet. I force myself to get to my feet and walk to the door. Bran gives me an encouraging smile as we walk and I try to find some courage. Time to show them I'm strong.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! Please remember to REVIEW, it means a lot :)**


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